Oscar

A team of five Players had just absolutely dumpstered the first boss of this dungeon. In response to this, Cardinal seemed to cycle through its Spotify playlist to some background music that captured the essence of what the Players had just done to Hrym. It was down to one final attack, but Oscar was currently sailing towards the bucket and not at all able to attack right now. So he did the only thing he could think to do. 

"YEET," he exclaimed as he contorted his body to throw Tesseleth's Fury at the giant. The moment after his axe left his hand, Oscar crashed through the opening to the lower decks like a bat out of hell. "GOOOOOOAAAAAALLLL," could be heard bellowing from below the decks as Oscar's axe buried itself once again in Hrym's face. An explosion of black fire engulfed the massive brute, bringing its health down to zero. Without a captain at the helm, the boat was sent flying though dimensions until it finally scuttled itself in a land of mist and fog. Oscar staggered out from below decks, surprised that a boat made of fingernails could survive such a heavy landing. "I think we can all agree that I was the MVP that fight. Two Fallen procs and I scored a goal." He brushed off the dust from his shoulder and collected his axe before diving over the side of the boat. They were on a roll and Oscar was intent on keeping that going.

By some cosmic fluke, Oscar had wound up getting paired up with a woman going through the exact issue he was. The sheer ludicrousness of the coincidence left Oscar speechless - if only for a moment. He cracked a smile and slumped forward just a bit, his hand moving up to the bridge of his nose. "I went and got myself worked up for nothing. Thank fuck for the small mercies." He clicked his tongue and, like that, he was back. He straightened his back and ran his fingers through his hair before letting his arm fall limply to his side. Similarities between their circumstances aside, Oscar found himself resonating with Jevi. It had been too long since he'd met someone who could keep up with his "wit." Another one of those small mercies.

"I like to think of myself as more of a Scarface than Corleone, but it's hard to tell without the mountains of cocaine," Oscar quipped. "Or would it be Heisenberg since I cook and all? Speaking of."

Oscar opened his menus and summoned up a pair of foil-wrapped cylinders. The scent of the sandwiches wafted through the air, creating an almost haze of onion and pepper-scented mist in their immediate vicinity. "I'll let you make the call about lunch. I've got two steak and cheese subs layered with about half a pound of meat, three different types of cheese and a veritable salad of onions and peppers - some mild, some hot - a piece. Do you really wanna make these puppies wait? I really don't think I've ever made a more unholy union of food in my entire time stuck here."  

"Aite, let's go," Oscar said with finality. He took off into a sudden sprint, dashing into the ship with breakneck speed. He blitzed past NIGHT, obfuscated in shadow and ran straight up to the main deck. Tesseleth's Fury snapped into his hand as he rushed forward towards the absolute UNIT that was going through his game-scripted entry sequence. 

"WELCOME MO-"

"SKIP!" Oscar exclaimed as he leapt from the deck and slammed his axe directly between Hrym's eyes. The Wrath of the Tyrant began to rumble, resonating through his axe. The power grew to a fever pitch, the weapon eventually unable to contain the raw fury of Tesseleth. A dark explosion ripped out from the point of impact, shaving a healthy chunk off of Hrym's health bar and blasting Oscar back towards the stairs that he'd just bounded up. He contorted himself in midair, trying to aim himself towards the opening like he was an Eight-Ball in the corner pocket. You've heard of Elf on the Shelf, but the world would soon know Oscar Soccer.

Oscar laughed and shook his head. "I'm not so humble that I'm gonna pretend it isn't a pain. But it's still my responsibility. Perhaps the only difference between here and the real life is that the Haves are willing to get back into the trenches and drag the Have-Nots out of it," he said. "Perhaps the secret to this whole ordeal is that we need to help each other. I don't see us getting out of this mess otherwise." He took another bite of his meal, still piping hot despite the tangent they embarked on. It was more out of a reflexive response to food being in front of him than any feelings of hunger. "I stopped being afraid of dying a long time ago. We all gotta go sometime. Best we can ever hope for is leaving something worthwhile behind. So if I die, I die. Least I can do it on my feet instead of being cowed into hiding in the Safe Zones until we get gout of here. I'm not saying you should 'get over it,' but accepting reality comes with its benefits."

A swing and a miss. Honestly, Oscar couldn't really say that his heart was really in the fight at this point. He'd expected some epic battle, but he'd brought a pool noodle with him to the fight. Bahr had done the same. At this juncture, the two of them were just two brick walls bitching at one another. There was nothing substantive about their words. Neither would cede the debate to the other. Both arguments had their merits, but neither side was willing to accept what the other was saying. So much the better. If he couldn't put Bahr in his place, he could - at the absolute minimum - redirect Tyson's aggro. No reason to go after Bahr if Oscar had killed their friendship. Though it dawned on him that he was approaching tinfoil hat territory, the idea that someone had been shadowing him through stealth wasn't outside of the realm of possibility. If nothing else, this would be a good show for them.

"We just gonna keep hitting each other until this shit times out? Seems like the only way to decide this fight is with a Fallen activation and both of us left our good shit at home. My hate boner went flaccid about three rounds ago."

Oscar grunted in response. Bahr had felled the group that had just lightly toasted the duo, freeing Oscar up to take on another pair of drakes. Money Shot sang as it sliced through the air, a metallic hum ringing out. Their health bars plummeted and Oscar ceded the field to Bahr. "An extermination coupled with some nonsense item hunt? Seems like if the quest wants us to kill 50 of these things for full rewards, it would respect us enough to just say that," Oscar said. He hated, more than anything, fake goals. Quests that initially seem simple, but then you realize that it wants you to collect a drop that might take you dozens or hundreds of kills to obtain. The very first quest one undertook demonstrated this vexing paradigm. "I'm with you though. Something with some challenge to it would be a great palette cleanser after this bullshit."

Oscar chuckled. All this time he thought he'd kept her waiting and the rolls were reversed. Well, well, well. How the turntables... Being honest, her sudden entry presented something of an issue. Did he lead with a handshake or a hug? Was this a platonic or romantic date? Probably the former, he decided. There was only so much romance one could squeeze out of watching bloodsport and that amount was exceptionally low. But, not wanting to sully the vibe with an improper greeting, in lieu of extending his hand, Oscar gave her a slight nod and a smile. Best to keep the physical contact to a minimum considering the fact that they pair of them had only just met literal seconds ago.

"There was a song that said 'I don't want my best-dressed day in the casket,'" Oscar replied. "I took it to heart. I'd hoped for the obvious hitman joke. Something like 'where's the garrote wire?' For shame, Jevi. Not off to great start," he added with a faux chiding tone. Oscar allowed his joke to linger just long enough to sink in before he continued. "All jokes aside, it's a pleasure. Truthfully, I wasn't certain what to expect when I signed up for this thing. I should count myself lucky that I'm not shanghaied into a moonlit gondola ride or some such nonsense." Saccharine and overdone dates stripped straight from a movie didn't make for an entertaining evening in Oscar's eyes. He let out a heavy sigh, more of relief than anything else.

Jevi was perfectly lovely and Oscar was still a man. The idea of being accompanied anywhere by a pretty woman brought forth a primal sort of joy straight from the deepest recesses of his amygdala. Instinct clashed with emotion as he remembered, yet again, that he was a taken man. Or about as taken as a man whose girlfriend had gone absentee for months could have been. A pang of guilt clawed at his chest. It was, unfortunately, decision time. The choice was between remaining silent or being clear. It wasn't really a choice. Oscar had been accused of many thing in his life, but never infidelity.

"I need to mention here that I'm in some weird relationship mess at the moment. I'd hoped for something not-romantic when I signed up. I don't want to do you or her the discourtesy of not being upfront about it. There's only so much bro talk a man can take before he wants to drive a stake into his ears. I don't mean to spring something heavy like this on you either," he said. Bad idea. They'd barely finished with the introductions and Oscar was screaming in her face that he had a girlfriend. He recoiled - slightly, but still visibly. "Ah, son of a bitch. Now who's off to the bad start?"

"I've found that comparatively few Players have actually elected to play the game," Oscar said. "The Frontlines only consist of a couple dozen Players. That's including the up-and-comers like myself. Barely a drop in the bucket compared to the thousands stuck here. So when I see or hear of a Player trying to make their way up the ladder, I usually drop everything to help them out. Even if it's for a quest I've already cleared." Oscar swiped open his menu and sent the gentleman a friend request. "That's why I would prefer that - in lieu of putting your neck on the line for something that might be out of your depth - you call me up. There's no shame in getting carried through a game that will literally kill you if your health bar reaches zero. It should go without saying that I'm down to help with whatever quest you need done."

"Well I'd imagine it would be a given, being as I'm one of this game's only Grandmaster Cooks," Oscar said. He was pleased to test his cuisine against someone with a refined palette. For Oscar's part, nothing got him through those cold Massachusetts winters on the farm better than some spicy chili. As he dug into the capsaicin-laced concoction, the heat reminded him of the home he longed to get back to. "You don't want straight heat in a spicy dish. You need some sweet or sour in there to give contrast. It's why I never understood why people bothered putting themselves through the spiciest snacks they could find. Burnt tongue isn't a taste, you know." Oscar took a long draff from his ale and placed the glass down with a click of his tongue. "I can't seem to nail beverages though. Maybe that's more of an alchemist thing? Still, not the worst beer I've ever had."

Following hot on Bahr's heels, Oscar tore through the Drakelings - catching another pair as they came in to reinforce their brethren. Unfortunately, he didn't manage to kill them all. And since one of Bahr's group was left alive, it spat white hot flame all over the pair as they came down off of their system-generated Art cooloffs. Following the lead of the first, the two from Oscar's group added their flames to the mix. Bahr fared better than Oscar had - a given since he was stocked with more Evasion. Though his health bar had taken a pummeling, Oscar was still ready to go. After all, Battle Healing would take care of all of the issues and soothe his ouchies. "Yeah," Oscar began, not even the slightest bit perturbed over the sear he'd just received. "I'd rather be as high of a level as possible before he get into all of that. Might as well burn some of these maps I have."

Oscar had to hand it to 'em. This boss had some very sophisticated dialogue. Hand-tailoring the insults to the players present was a nice touch. He imagined that some of them found their mark. Gone was the panic that had surged at the onset. It had been trampled underfoot by the initial charge of the Frontliners. Blood quickened, time slowed. Each second simply crawled by, laden heavily with the surging bloodlust from both sides. Artificial Intelligence or not, the entity before them was prepared to slaughter them all. The Frontliners would not have their forward momentum stymied here, even if they had to step over the corpse of something emulating sentience.

Oscar wondered just how fucked all of them would be once they finally escaped.

But they had to escape first. To do that, they needed this win today. They could deal with their collective psychological trauma in post. Opposing forces collided, grinding together. Orgoth laid waste to party after party, but it came at a cost. Over a third of his health bar had been shaved off by the Frontliners' assault. The Shadow still exposited one-liners that it thought witty. But Orgoth was still closer to death than the Players, despite their best efforts.

“Darkness reign and rain away, linger with me while we play. Watch these ‘heroes’, wastes of clay, as I end their final day.”

Record scratch. Pause.

Did this fucker just?

Black flame erupted from his weapon, jettisoning Oscar forward. The Beast screamed through the air like a missile. He closed the distance and planted his feet firmly on the ground. He spun his weapon around and slammed the head of the axe into the ground. A wave of flame erupted from Tesseleth's Fury, cascading over and swallowing the massive minotaur. The inferno quelled as quickly as it had sparked to life, leaving a thoroughly charbroiled bull behind.

"I'm not a rapper. So stop rappin' at me," Oscar spat.

PARTY I

PARTY II

Oscar didn't know why he would need an LD enhancement for a dungeon, but he wasn't about to argue with what was probably the best-looking giant pretzel he'd seen in, well, years. He quickly scarfed down the food item, pocketing the offered crystals. He'd never used anything that a Performer could produce before, but he was looking forward to seeing it in action. Once he'd completely consumed the pretzel, he summoned up a glass of water from his inventory to wash it down. Finally, with a contented sigh, he smashed the glass on the ground and faced the Naglfar. The vessel towered over them ominously, unearthly wails issuing forth from within the belly of the beast. It was more hammy than actually frightening though. "Could have done with a little mustard, but beggars can't be choosers. You guys ready to rock this dungeon out now?"

Oscar made the short trek home and was wrist deep in preparing lunch when he heard the chime of a message being received. He hadn't anticipated that she would get back to him so quickly and he couldn't very well put down what he was doing. It was only after the cooking was done that he was able to extricate himself from the front of the grill long enough to read her message. As he did so, a pleased smile stretched over his features. I like her already. It did, however, create something of a problem. If he ate now, then he would be too full to grab anything with her. He'd just need to scrap his lunch plans and make something for them both. As much as he would like to eat now, he figured he could wait a while longer. Oscar picked up his plate and stepped outside of the kitchen. Then, he placed it on the ground and whistled sharply.

"Come on now boys! Get your lunch!" he exclaimed. Leeroy and Jenkins could be heard dashing across the marble floors. In their excitement, the pair drifted into the dining hall and slammed into the door. But the power of a good burger and fries was too much for the two-headed Cerberus to really give it the time of day. They skidded to a stop, pushing the plate along the floor as they greedily scarfed down its contents. As they ate, Oscar merely laughed and opened up his messenger.

 

Quote

To: @Jevi
Subject: RE: RE: RE: date night?

Sounds good. I'm running a bit behind. Feeding the dog. I'll whip us up a lunch and be there as soon as I can. I'd get some concessions at the Arena, but I'm a Cook and professionals have standards. I think I can make something a little better than dry hot dogs and stale popcorn. Lol anyway, I'll see you soon.

- Oscar

As he retrieved the clean plate from his now-satiated hounds, Oscar returned to the kitchen and mulled over what to make. He'd be lying if he said he didn't want to show off a little bit, but there was only so much that one could do with a hot dog. Of course, his specialty was Americana so there was a smorgasbord of items he could make. It would need to be mobile as they'd probably be eating on the go. A thought popped into his head and he cracked a smile. "Now that's an idea," he mused. He set to work, quickly throwing together something that he thought he could really put some finesse into. Not so complex that it required a full plate setting but not so simple that it was inelegant. His solution had been Philly Cheesesteak subs - a creation almost synonymous with the American Northeast. A taste of home for him and, hopefully, an enjoyable meal for her.

Once those had been prepped, wrapped, and added to his inventory, Oscar headed upstairs to change. Not a very time-consuming endeavor. He changed into a grey pinstripe suit with a black button-up and tie. His leather gloves came with the package. Oddly enough, however, he opted to leave his shades and overcoat at home. His usual attire gave off heavy Mafia Don vibes. He really didn't think that would be a good icebreaker. With everything done and sorted Oscar headed for the door. Leeroy and Jenkins were a bit too indolent after their heavy meal and thus didn't rush after him as they normally did. A good thing, too. Oscar needed them to stay home otherwise neither he nor Jevi would be able to enjoy the lunch he made. As it turns out, two-headed Cerberuses could jump pretty damn high. Oscar had had his food snapped right out of his hand more times than he could count.

He returned to town as quickly as his feet could carry him. He'd already kept her waiting long enough and for a man who liked to be a prompt as possible that was absolutely unacceptable. Oscar stepped onto the Teleportation Platform and disappeared in a flash of light. The Plaza of Paraneze stretched out before him. He stepped off the platform and started looking around - searching for someone who seemed like they might be waiting on someone. When he didn't find anyone, he looked down at his watch and clicked his tongue. Maybe he took too long and she headed back. Should he send another message? Maybe she's running late too? While he mused, Oscar shoved his hands into his pockets. It would hurt to just wait around for a bit.

Bahr's reponse hadn't really given him much to push the conversation forward with. It wasn't the end of the world though. Oscar wasn't going to complain about getting some peace and quiet for a few minutes before the Drakelings start nipping at their ankles. On the subject of the Drakelings, Bahr and Oscar had really thinned them out. In the process of attempting to maximize rewards from the quest, they'd almost completely decimated their numbers. Certainly, there were more lurking deeper in the mines but at least they weren't flowing freely out of the tunnel entrances anymore. "So you feel like doing a dungeon after we wrap up here? I've got a map and I'm pretty sure we can two-man that shit. It's a little extra SP for the both of us." Oscar hadn't been too incredibly impressed with dungeon rewards. But he didn't often have someone else to shoulder some of the burden. "Won't be much, but it'd be a nice challenge, I think."

"I appreciate the invitation. In the meantime, take a seat at the bar. Let's put those spicy food genetics through their paces," Oscar said. When one thought Grandmaster Cook, a diner didn't really come to mind. While it had quickly become evident that Val had caught on to the sheer disparity between their levels, he still had one more surprise up his sleeve. Oscar took off his coat and tie and hung them on a rack just outside the kitchen door. Then, he disappeared through the black swinging door. Once inside, he rolled up his sleeves as he considered what to make. Something hearty to sate their appetite. Chili immediately sprang to mind. It was the perfect way to blend spice but also fill empty bellies. He quickly set to work - dicing onions, slicing peppers, and preparing the meat. When you got down to brass tacks, you couldn't just throw meat into a pot of hot bean water with some onions and peppers and think that it would come out right.

Rather than a ground beef blend, Oscar went for diced flank steak. A cheap cut of meat. Tough. But it was easier to seal in the flavors. Onions, garlic, and peppers went into the pan. As they began to sweat, the air became thick with spice. It stung at his throat and eyes, but only slightly. Oscar had spent enough time in the kitchen to be used to things like that. Val, mercifully, would only be treated to the wafting aroma of the components being sautéed. Once the vegetables had begun to soften, Oscar added in his chunks of flank steak as he prepared his base for the chili. Hand-made tomato puree was added to a large pot with a little water. By the time it had reached a boil (which didn't take long because, you know, Aincrad) the contents of his skillet was ready to be dumped in. He let everything blend together after adding some kidney beans. Again, a normally all day affair reduced to minutes via video game logic. When all was said and done, he lifted the lid to find a perfectly simmered and thickened chili.

The chili was added to a bowl atop some rice and paired with a crisp ale. Usually one to would drink to get drunk, but the flavor of the dish and the flavor of the beer would mesh well together. Once everything was prepared, he brought two trays containing food and drink out of the kitchen and sat one down in front of Val. "You said you liked spicy, so I brought the heat. Tell me what you think."

"Call," Oscar said confidently.

Veiled behind the wide lenses of his dark aviators, Oscar's eyes flicked down to the two cards in his hand. Queen of Hearts, Queen of Clubs. His eyes quickly moved back up to the other players in the game. They stared daggers into the four cards lying face up in the middle of the table, precisely to the left of a sizeable pile of Col. More Col - in fact - than they had probably seen in their entire time in Aincrad. It was still less Col than Oscar got in an hour of grinding on the higher floors. He'd spent most of his day losing a few dozen thousand Col in this dive bar down on Floor Seven. The stench of whiskey and tobacco hung heavy in the air. It reminded Oscar a lot of his youth. Of course, in those days, he was the lookout. If any cops showed up on the block, he was to sound the alarm and help clear the place out. Out of all the odd jobs he did for the small time criminals in Boston in his younger years, those were the best ones. Cops didn't care about some low-level illegal gambling. More often than not, Oscar was sat at the couch watching the adults play and helping himself to whatever food was lying around.

But now, the roles had shifted somewhat. Regular Poker games with the men who took up residence in Deepedge was perhaps the most complex that his charity got. The men wouldn't take a handout. They were salt-of-the-earth folk. Working class. Men who had scraped up enough to buy their kids a NerveGear and responsible enough to have dove in first to see what it was all about. If you picked a face out of the crowd, Oscar could probably tell you their story - either told to him directly or overheard in one of the rare instances where these normally-stoic individuals just couldn't keep it in anymore. Men like this wouldn't take a handout. If Oscar waltz in throwing money around, they'd very well let it languish on the floor. Their pride wouldn't let them. But prideful men still needed to eat. They just wouldn't take a handout.

But everyone loves to fleece a sucker. Especially if that sucker is a rich boy from the mansion just outside of town.

He took a drag from his cigarette - when in Rome, after all - and flicked his ashes into the tray on his left. All of the shitty aftertaste, none of the nicotine. Thanks Cardinal, he thought. It was a delicate process. Lose too much and they figure he's throwing on purpose. Win too much and that just defeats the whole purpose. Oscar was down about 20 grand, with another 30 in the pot. He very much wished to lose this hand. He was about ready to head out, but he couldn't walk away up 10 grand either. Problem was, his hand was made on the flop. Four face-up cards contained a Queen of Hearts and Queen of Diamonds. Four-of-a-Kind was an nearly-impossible hand to top. He was in a rather impossible situation. He couldn't fold because they would all reveal their hands at the end. If he folded on a Four-of-a-Kind, they would know something was up. But if he played through, an entire day's worth of work went down the drain.

Mercifully, the chime of a message hitting his inbox saved him. He haphazardly swiped with his right hand, bringing up his menu and earning disapproving looks from every man at the table.

"Disqualified!" One of the men exclaimed.

Oscar let out a heavy sigh and threw his cards on the table. "Damn, force of habit."

One of the more curious individuals peered down at the discarded cards, now face up and on display. "Damn Oscar. You can't catch a break. Woulda cleaned our clocks with that hand," he said.

"I know, right? I was looking forward to squeezing you guys for once. Maybe next time," Oscar said. He finished off his cigarette and extinguished it in the tray. "But I gotta take this. I'll see you guys later."

Oscar was seen out the door with friendly waves and goodbyes. Once he was out of the dark and grungy bar and into the daylight, he opened the message proper. Jevi? Who the fu- Oh! That date thing. Oscar didn't really know why he'd signed up for it. Technically, he was still in a relationship. He thought. He really didn't know. What does it mean when your girlfriend doesn't come home for three months? Years of experience in his career as a therapist and Oscar still couldn't answer that. But being as he'd torpedoed the relationships he had with practically every ally he had, perhaps just hanging out with someone new would be just what the doctor ordered.
 

Quote

To: @Jevi
Subject: RE: date night?

No sweat. I'm bad at this too. How does Floor Three sound? Quaint little inn there has some pretty good food. Doesn't see much foot traffic either. Unless you're thinking something more public. Then you really can't go wrong at the Arena on Floor 24. Crazy action, huge monsters. A whole SUNDAY, SUNDAY, SUNDAY type thing. Your call though.

- Oscar

His first thought had been to bring her to his place and cook something there. Three problems. First, the whole bringing her to his place pitch. All sorts of messy connotations. Second, he'd done that for almost everyone he'd met. And with things developing the way they were, there was no way he was inviting a stranger back to the place he rested his head. And third, it was hard to bring people to his home without it seeming like he was flexing on them. Maybe he should go for a smaller house. Something without so many white marble statues. In the meantime, while he waited for a reply, he had to get the taste of stale tobacco out of his mouth.

"You say 'Pioneers,' I say 'Fucking Idiots That Got Trapped Inside Tron," Oscar quipped. He shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. "Two schools of thought, both equally valid. Ultimately, whatever helps people see another day is probably a good idea. I can see the appeal to learning the ropes with ankle weights on, though. As far as physical limits go, I'm really not convinced we have them here. Have you seen the crazy bullshit you can pull off?" Sure, they couldn't fly and they certainly weren't surviving a fifty-thousand foot drop, but beyond that the sky was the limit. "But I get the sentiment. I think my 'git gud' point was against the Night's King. Something about seeing over half your health bar get shaved in a single blow and knowing that if they connect again you're dead really forces you into that spot where you learn how to play. Of course now I would smear him across his throne room with the force of a thousand suns. Crazy how the power spikes are in this game."
 

Oscar laughed. "You actually eat more poisonous things than you think. You like spicy food? Peppers are borderline toxic to humans, but we love to dice 'em up and feel the burn." He never really knew as much about food in the real world as he did within the confines of the game. There was a surprisingly large amount of practical culinary skills hidden within the NPC dialogue and books within the game. As someone with the Cook profession, Oscar was able to use it more keenly than most. But if he ever got out of here, he remained convinced that he could change careers to professional chef in no time. "But we won't have to worry about that unless you like some heat in your food. Follow closely. It's easy to get turned around in the back alleys of this city," he added. And like that, he was off. From the gate, he headed to the plaza and walked past the platform between two buildings flanking one of the many labyrinthine streets of the Town of Beginnings. He deliberately slowed his pace as their path became more and more winding. His turns came more frequently, a left, a right, two more lefts. Even Oscar sometimes got turned around. But, finally, they came to a dilapidated building that housed two shops. One being The Crusty Bahrnacle. Oscar pointed to the shop and spoke. "If you ever need Light Armor or a fist weapon, guy who owns that place is a damn good Tailor. The shop next to it, however..." Oscar opened the door and stepped away from the threshold. "Is mine."

"Great job," Oscar said as a slight grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Pretty flashy execution there." Oscar let out a yawn and checked his watch. This hadn't even killed an hour of his day. Well you know what that means. Oscar beckoned for the man to follow and turned on his heels. "Come on, let's go get some lunch." He didn't peek over his shoulder to see if the man was following as he made the short jaunt back to town. He'd spent a lot of time on this floor, navigating every rock and stump with a trained gait. The lenses of his shades cast a dark tone over the verdant landscape. At least the sun wasn't in his eyes. After they'd made it back to the gates to the city, Oscar stopped and turned to face his companion. "I know a great place. Looks like a hole-in-the-wall, but it's got some great food."

With his hate lead somehow established, Oscar decided to capitalize on it. Without removing his hands from his pockets, he summoned a blue barrier comprised of transparent hexagons. The barrier rippled around his form for a brief moment before finally disappearing. A buff icon would appear on his status bar. The next time he was struck, he would halve the damage and stun the target. It was really just a bit of insurance in case Valentine wasn't able to connect with an attack next round. If he was, Oscar figured the hatchling would just die. If he didn't, then Oscar would stun the quest target and prevent keep the two of them safe from needling claws and wing buffets to the face. This situation reminded Oscar of the great Buff Debate he'd had with Bahr. An accuracy buff would have decided combat already, but Oscar wasn't here to shill his shop. Nor did he really want to make Valentine feel any worse about missing a simple target. "Just keep swinging. You're sure to hit sooner or later."

It was a struggle, really. A struggle to figure out where he belonged. Was he to be on the front, bringing all the damage he could squeeze out of his weapon to bear? Or, was he to hang back? Read the room? Strategize? He could be equally competent in both. Against a brute as massive as the one standing before him, Oscar couldn't imagine that he would need to focus that hard just to hit it. But out of all those assembled, he was among those with the least experience. True, he could carve through spiders like no one's business. He'd even killed a Giant Peep or two in his heyday. But nothing like this. Nothing so important. No fight had ever been so crucial. He put his life on the line every day simply by trying to make it in the godforsaken game. But now everyone's lives were on the line. His, his party's. Hell, even the people who weren't even in the damn fight. He was not ignorant of the gravity of the situation. It weighed heavily on him.

This was further complicated by the fact that he barely knew half of his party. Zandra had been his shadowy benefactor when Oscar had joined the upper echelon. Freyd was quickly becoming one of his best and most trusted allies. The others though? Oscar didn't know them from Joe. Yet, he needed to trust and rely on them all the same - just as they did for him. The pressure weighed on him from all sides, crushing and cracking his psyche. He had never been one to let his nerves get to you but when you're thrust into a life-or-death situation with 23 other people knowing that the lives and futures of thousands - many of which you know personally - hangs in the balance, things just happen.

A storm of emotions raged in his head, chaotic and dark. A black-and-red nebulous mass heavy at the fore - crackling and arcing with shocks to his synapses. Shocks that would then wrack his entire core. His hands were shaking. Perspiration beaded on his forehead. Eyes bulged, darting about the room in search of anything to latch onto. Anything to focus on. Anything to bring him back. 

A brief respite from the chaos was desperately needed.

He closed his eyes. 

Breathed deeply.

And reminded himself of one very important fact:

You know you made a career teaching people how to manage these right?

And with that, a tether. An anchor back to reality. He didn't so much cling to it as he just let it do his job. You won't be any good for anyone if you just sit there like an idiot. Hit the fucker already.

Right. They were in the middle of a fight, after all. Oscar's right hand sliced through the air. With a single motion, his Battle Ready inventory propagated in a small screen. Not obtrusive enough to block his focus, but not small enough to be completely ignored either. He spooled up a skill - Quick Change - and quickly navigated the interface as he rushed into the melee. One of the perks of his ensemble not directly reflecting the equipment he was wearing was the fact that it wasn't readily apparent that he'd even changed gear at all. But, he decided that having some health and energy regeneration was more important than raw stats right now - especially as he'd noticed in his rush that a debuff had been applied. With his change done, all that remained was for him to swing. The blade of his axe took on a violet glow - signaling the activation of his Sword Art. He stopped short before the massive beast and planted his feet. From there, he threw all of his strength into swinging his axe like a baseball bat. The black edge sank deep into Orgoth's thigh before being stopped by the sheer density of the warrior's muscles. Oscar wrenched his axe free and hopped back. Something told him raid bosses had one hell of a counterattack.

Oscar decided to start off combat with a quick basic attack. The hope was that with a lucky critical, he could establish a hate lead and Valentine would be able to assault the Hatchling unopposed. He struck like lightning, his weapon shimmering into existence for the briefest of moments. Tesseleth's Fury sliced through the hatchling and spouted a gout of black flame before disappearing into a shimmer of particles. It wasn't the critical that Oscar had been hoping for, but he'd applied the Burn effect nonetheless. From there, Oscar stood back and gave Valentine the breathing room he would need to get into the fight. Burn would gnaw away at the Hatchling's health in the interim. For now, Oscar would merely sit back, relax, and enjoy the show. He didn't imagine that his low-level companion would need much of anything at this point. He just didn't want to sit there and do nothing. "All yours. Give it hell my man."
 

Oscar being seen haunting the streets of the Town of Beginnings was a rarity as of late. He had much bigger fish to fry with everything going on. But, it didn't mean that he could necessarily afford to neglect the stronghold that he had built for himself within the walls of the city. As he stepped off of the Teleportation Platform, Oscar looked around the main plaza to see if there was anyone in need of assistance. At that moment, he heard a familiar chime. Opening his interface, a message populated before him.

 

Quote

From: Conciliator

Oscar, got a newbie looking to take on the Emerald Hatchling. Give them a hand if you got a minute.

Oscar quickly sent a reply and waited for the coordinates to be sent to him. It took seconds. Oscar let out a soft sigh and headed out of the city to where his "client" was supposed to be awaiting him. He made a conscious choice to keep it low-key. Didn't want to completely curb-stomp it for them. So, he adjusted his equipment accordingly. Tesseleth's Fury would be overkill for this one. And by that vein, so would his back-up weapon. A bit of a stick situation, but he could always choose not to engage and just keep the quester topped up with First Aid. Finally, Oscar arrived. He was greeted by the absolute unit that was the client. Just a few inches shorter than Oscar and dressed in red attire. Reminded him of Bahr if Bahr wasn't a manlet. Oscar gave the man a wave and took off his aviators as he made his approach. "Local info broker tagged me and said you needed a hand with a quest. You cool if I let you handle the fighting and I keep you healed?"

 

Gotta love procrastination. Honestly, if Oscar had a nickel for every time that he left something until the last possible second, he would be richer than he already was. A simple swipe of his right hand summoned up his menu. From there, he navigated into his messenger interface and began typing.

Quote

To: @Freyd - The Whisper in Shadows, @Raidou, @Bahr, @NIGHT

Guys. I figgity-fucked up. I forgot about this whole-ass dungeon thing for Halloween. Any chance you guys could be the cavalry for your most intellectually-challenged friend?

And then he hit send. The regret was almost instant. Figgity-fucked up? Who the fuck talks like that? Whatever. They could revel in his foolishness later. If it got the dungeon cleared, he could deal with some light-hearted ribbing at his expense. He hit the door, a duet of hot dogs being shoved down his gullet and washed down with a potion. He was going balls-to-the-wall here. No Mitigation, full damage, fuck the consequences. From there he headed down to the Stygian River. Or was it up? Technically, it was on Floor 10. Regardless, he waited by the banks of the river as the Naglfar beckoned him so invitingly. A ship made from the toenails of the dead? Oscar had to find out who their interior decorator was.

Thread Summary
+9 SP [7 Quest, 1 Page, 1 Bonus]
7,900 Col [7,500 Quest, 400 Page]
<<Claymore of the Warrior>>
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